mi manchi
by pfirsichkind
Summary: Not that he was missing him, of course not. But, honestly, where was this bastard. Leaving him all alone here, lying on his bed, oddly hugging the cushions, trying to imagine what it would feel, if Spain would be next to him.


**mi manchi**

After knocking for the fifth time (and parallel yelling to that), Lovino started searching for the keys. Stupid Spain. Making him wait in the downpour, searching for keys which were nowhere to be found. Probably that idiot was sleeping somewhere or speaking with his turtles or something. But when Lovino triumphantly found that key and stuck it into the keyhole, the lock snapped uncharacteristically. Like a lock that was, well, _locked_. But Spain never locked his door. Except he was… gone.

Lovino walked through the house, leaving puddles of water everywhere but it wasn't like he cared actually. What he really cared about were the whereabouts of this stupid bastard. Obviously he wasn't in his house. Lovino shrugged and moved to the kitchen. Maybe the bastard had some political issues to do- now that his "little henchman" had gained independence there was some stuff to be talked about. Lovino casually opened the fridge and blinked. Once. Twice. Empty. That fucking fridge was empty. Like, _empty_. There weren't even tomatoes left. Spain had _always_ tomatoes left.

"Porca puttana." He was hungry, dammit. His plan had been to march into Spain's house and make him cook something! And now that bastard wasn't here, neither was some food! Angrily he slammed the fridge shut and looked out of the window. At least the rain had stopped. He grabbed some money and a basket and made his way to the market.

* * *

Two fucking days. And that Spaniard was nowhere in sight. He had asked people at the market where Spain could be. Hell, he had even walked to his favourite bar to ask there. But nobody knew where that stupid idiot was. Lovino slammed his fist down at the cushion. "Where the fuck are you, bastardo!"

* * *

Day number three. Still no sign of that goofy grin. Dammit, he hadn't come here to hang around and drinking that bastard's sangria because he felt so lonely, because he didn't feel lonely at all! Just… a little bit… forgotten. Didn't Spain miss him at all? Not that he was missing him, of course not. But, honestly, where was this bastard. Leaving him all alone here, lying on his bed, oddly hugging the cushions, trying to imagine what it would feel, if Spain would be next to him, feeling his scarred and suntanned hands on his skin, letting himself be watched by those warm green eyes, moving closer to that welcoming chest, always holding him, always protecting him-

"Stupido Antonio!", he hissed, clenching his eyes shut to keep the tears away. He wouldn't cry now. Not over that shitty bastard.

* * *

Day four. Lovino had spend the day with harvesting some of the tomatoes, crashing one of the vases in the house, eat some bruschetta, drink some sangria, harvest some more tomatoes, crashing a stupid marble bust, lying around. Oh. And make dinner. With wine. And candles. And lots of food. With fruits and pasta and hell, he had even tried some churros! And since it was the fourth evening and therefore the fourth time he made that stupid magnificent dinner for that _stupid idiot Spain_, they were pretty good by now.

Currently he was in the Spaniard's bed again, inhaling the thick scent of sunshine, tomatoes, spicy sweat, a faint smell of blood and being fucking _worried_. So it was normal that when he heard a noise of a rattling key, he jumped up and stormed down into the hallway as if France would chase him. But then he stopped in his moves and hurried behind the door frame. He looked around the corner and really, the door revealed the Spaniard.

"Lovi, I'm home~!", he called. Lovino frowned. How could the bastard know he was there? But then the joyful voice suddenly went quiet and sad. He heard Spain sigh and mumble to himself. "How can he be here, Antonio. He is independent, not your little henchman anymore. You are just a stupid idiot."

"Took you long enough to get that."

Antonio's head jerked up to see Lovino standing in the door frame of the kitchen.

"L-lovi?", he spluttered unbelievingly- then practically beamed with joy. "Lovinito! You came to visit me! You still have my key~! That makes your jefe muuuuuy feliz~!" He was about to walk to the Italian and hug him when Lovino did that by himself. In a split second he had thrown his arms around the other, hands clutching into the cotton of the white shirt Spain was wearing, face pressed against his chest, feeling the warmth of the other, breathing in the scent of sunshine, tomatoes, spicy sweat, a faint smell of blood, breathing in _Spain_ and not holding back the tears anymore. "Stupid stupid stupid Spagna", he muffled into the other's chest and relaxed a bit when Antonio wrapped his arms around him, nestling into his hair.

"Shh, it's okay, Lovinito."

* * *

Embarrassed he wiped the tears away, avoiding looking at Spain.

"I'm sorry I made you cry~", the other smiled.

"I was not crying, dammit!"

"But, Lovi-"

"Was not!"

"Okay, I get it." Spain assured him and laughed a little.

The Italian scratched at the bottom with his feet. " 'm hungry."

"Ah, I'm sorry Lovi! But I thought I would be alone when returning home, so there's nothing in the house by now", Antonio excused himself looking kind of distressed.

"Do you think I lived on air the last four days?"

"Four days? You were here for four days already? Oh, I'm sorry, mi Lovi~! You must have been bored."

"I crashed a vase and that ugly bust for revenge."

"Ahahaha-" The nervous laugh stopped abruptly when Antonio followed the Italian into the kitchen and saw the richly laid table. "Lovi… Wow, that's… increible! Did you know I'd come back today?"

"Che, how would I, stupido? 's not like you left a note or something."

"Then, why did- don't tell me you did that the last three days, too", concluded Spain, completely stunned.

Lovino turned around, facing the sunset instead of the Spaniard, who's large (and goofy) grin had returned.

"Ayyy, mi Lovinito! Muchas gracias!" He wrapped his arms around the smaller one and placed a kiss on his temple. Lovino went bright red and tried to hide his face in the crook of Spain's arm. "Bastard!"

"Awwww, you look just like a little toma-"

"I swear, if you're going to say this I'll force you to eat all the pepperoni I've left from the pasta arrabiata!"

- end

* * *

mi manchi = I miss you

porca puttana = fucking hell

That makes your jefe muuuuuy feliz = That makes your boss very happy

increible = amazing


End file.
